ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ

○•●○•●○•●

This time it takes longer than usual.

Almost a full minute passes before the skin on his right hand has fully regenerated. Slowly, piece by piece, the cold plastic disappears under the familiar shell that surrounds him and hides his true self.

He presses his lips together. Relieved and thoughtful at the same time, he looks down at his hand. Carefully, he clenches his hand into a fist, and suddenly the heat and the trembling in his fingertips seem to spread to his entire body for a split second.

It isn't an unpleasant sensation. In fact, quite the opposite, because it makes the pump in Connor's chest beat a lot faster. The LED on his temple pulses between yellow and red. He can see himself in the mirror above the sink.

"Shit," he hisses out. A choked groan rises up inside him.

His system reports a significant increase in his core temperature. Connor ignores the message. What he can't ignore for much longer, though, is the fact that his body is getting more and more out of control.

Especially in the presence of a very special human being.

It's not that Connor doesn't want to. But his body is calling for something that is simply impossible. Between human and android, it will never work. Moreover, any reaction to it is extremely hard to predict. There are many shades of grey between rejection and acceptance.

He doesn't know how much longer he can hide it. The closer they get physically, the harder it is to resist. And Connor longs for it, so much. Every touch, every look, every word unleashes more of these new, confusing feelings inside him. They become stronger every day and it is still a mystery to him how people manage to deal with them so easily.

Feelings and emotions are complicated, confusing and not at all logical.

Hiding in Hank's bathroom for the rest of the evening doesn't make the situation any better, though.

A gentle knock on the door behind him makes Connor flinch.

"Um, Connor? Everything all right in there?" he hears Hank ask on the other side.

There is a hint of concern in his words. Investigating, Connor looks at his hands. No plastic, just flawless human skin, apparently.

"Yes, of course. Just give me a second, will you? I'll be right with you!" he calls over his shoulder.

After a moment's hesitation, Hank accepts. Slowly, his footsteps move away. Followed by some murmurs and a soft woof. Connor smiles and can almost see Hanks walking back into the living room, meanwhile stroking Sumo's huge head.

Connor looks in the mirror once more. His LED shines a relaxed blue again. He is doing well. He has everything under control. He has himself under control.

He just needs to be a little more careful.

○•●○•●

Tonight's movie night.

Hank and Sumo are already waiting for him. When he joins them on the couch, he is immediately captured by the friendly St. Bernard. Connor is only too happy to accept the invitation, wrapping both arms around Sumo's broad neck and burying his face in his soft fur.

Sumo hums satisfied.

Beside them, Hank gives a soft smirk. "Sumo, a big fat traitor as usual."

Sumo's response to this is an approving mumble, including a cheerful wag of his tail. After an extensive cuddle session, the dog finally voluntarily jumps off the sofa to make himself comfortable on his cosy dog bed.